


Jealous

by TheSlytherinWitch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Guilt, Jealous Sherlock, John is on a date again, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinWitch/pseuds/TheSlytherinWitch
Summary: John is going on a date. Sherlock is bored and jealous.





	Jealous

Sherlock was bored again. It had been exactly seven days four hours and ten minutes since he and John had concluded their last case- a tricky one about a man trapped in a bank vault- and he was itching to do something- anything!- to spare him from this boredom.

“John!” he shouted. “John where are you?” The apartment was quiet but he knew his roommate was in his bedroom, undoubtedly doing absolutely nothing of interest. Sherlock counted his steps as he paced back and forth.

One-two-three-four-five.

He ran up against the messy coffee table and turned.

One-two-three-four-five.

Turn.

“John!” he tried again. Where was he? Sherlock counted another five steps and turned again, his continuous pacing making his head spin.

He wanted a cigarette. He had been using patches for years now but he urge still came back to him… the urge to use something stronger was there too but he wasn’t quite that desperate yet. Being around John so long had been a good influence on him.

Heavy footsteps came up behind him and he stopped walking. “Jesus, what is it Sherlock?”

“Ah good,” he replied, a strained smile coming to his face. “Please tell me we’ve received a new case on that computer of yours. I’m going to go mad if I have to stay in this apartment a moment longer.”

John’s snort of laughter brought a crease to Sherlock’s brow. “Well feel free to check it yourself.  _ I’m _ going out.”

“Wonderful! I’ll accompany you! Just give me a moment to get my coat and we’ll be off. Where are we going this time? Scotland Yard?”

“No, Sherlock. I’m going alone.”

“What?” Sherlock turned around and laid eyes on his roommate. “Why on earth would you do- Oh.” John was wearing the fanciest of his three pairs of shoes and his nicest coat.

John sighed as he saw the judgmental look cross his friend’s face. “I know what you’re going to say but I think this will be good for me." When Sherlock still didn’t respond he continued. “Her name is Jane. Met her in a cafe a few weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me about her. Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Sherlock questioned. He felt… betrayed. And suspicious. After Mary Sherlock had been suspicious of every woman who so much as looked at his best friend and now one he had never met, never seen, was going on a  _ date _ with him?

It didn’t sit well with him. And it didn’t help that John had combed his hair back and worn his cologne… Sherlock felt his heart tighten as he tried to convince himself that all he was doing was trying to protect this man, his best friend. That there wasn’t even the tiniest part of him that did not want him going on dates for an entirely different reason.

John was talking again, moving Sherlock’s attention back to him. “I didn’t tell you about her because I knew you’d want to meet her.”

“Well of course I’d want to meet her. Why is that a problem?”

“It’s a problem because you’re going to hate her.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Why would you think that?” he demanded, pretending that he didn’t hate her already.

“Because you hate everyone, Sherlock! And because you’ve scared off any girl who I even had a chance with! I’m ready to start again. None of those girls were dangerous.”

He snorted. “The first was already married, the second- what was her name? Daisy?- she was a serial nose blower and had about ten cats. No thank you.” Sherlock ran through the list that had accumulated steadily over the past three years since Mary’s death.

John groaned. “Yes! I know, you’ve told me. Wait- you missed Amy. You never told me what your problem with  _ her _ was.”

“She had a child. I don’t like children.”

“I have a child!” John exclaimed.

“I know that!” Sherlock snapped. “Rosie is different. You know I don’t mind her. Speaking of… where is she?”

The man adjusted his coat. “I sent her to spend the night with Mrs. Hudson.”

“Really?” Sherlock mused, scanning his memory for when John had left and returned to the apartment and coming up empty. “Why didn’t you just ask me to watch her?”

“Because you’re getting into one of your moods! Look, I have to go, Sherlock. Try to find a case and do not burn the apartment down while I’m gone.”

“Fine,” he muttered in reply, grabbing the laptop and crashing down onto the couch with it. He relished the way John rolled his eyes and turned back to look at him when he reached the door.

He almost thought that the man would change his mind and stay, but the click and muffled footsteps on the stairs told him that he’d thought wrong. Sherlock scowled and allowed himself five seconds to sulk before he was pushing the laptop off him and swinging his legs off the couch. He moved to the window and peered down as John walked out and turned decisively left.

There was only one good dinner option to the left that was within walking distance. Sherlock nodded, pleased, and went to fetch his coat.

It wasn’t spying, he told himself as he walked up Baker Street. He just wanted to make sure that John was safe. He’d just have a look at this Jane woman and then he’d be on his way.

The night air bit at the man’s cheeks and he pulled his coat tighter around him. Well, he mused bitterly, at least this was distracting. He could just imagine John laughing and flirting with some girl who looked like all the other average, boring, middle aged females that John dated. They made Sherlock angry. No… not angry.

He was jealous.

The restaurant had a pretty awning that spread over the sidewalk above the large windows. Sherlock glanced casually in as he passed, taking stock of the other families and couples until he found- there!

John was sitting at a table on the far side of the restaurant, leaning forward across the table to point at something on the menu his date was holding. The woman nodded and Sherlock watched her careful as she did.

Nicely dressed but homely, ponytail, calm, librarian, roughly thirty eight years of age, five four, never married, small dog, no- two small dogs, organized and sweet.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John had nothing to worry about. It made him relax a bit but he was surprised that his friend had chosen her. She seemed timid, a bit self conscious, and not interesting at all.

Sherlock found his agitation rising again alongside his boredom as he trekked home. For a single, horrible second, Sherlock imagined what it would be like to be June. A lady who was not an addict who could never be satisfied with doing nothing. A person John could ask on a date.

He shook his head and shoved the thought away. He needed to distract himself. He needed to find a case.

The laptop was still in its place on the couch when the man entered the apartment. He spent about an hour looking through potential but not noteworthy cases and thought too much about John.

If Sherlock was addicted to anything it was things that made him not bored… and John. The world could burn to the ground for all he cared as long as he and John could work cases together for the rest of their lives.

He wasn’t sure when he had gotten so attached to his roommate. Probably the first day they’d met but it had grown so much worse in recent years. Ever since Eros had trapped John in the well, maybe. Since then he’d grown… anxious… when he did not know exactly where his friend was.

He remembered one morning when John had left before he had gotten up and forgotten to leave a note or tell Mrs. Hudson. The flash of genuine fear that had flashed up inside Sherlock when he woke up and realized he had no idea where John was had been unpleasant. His hands had shook as he’d called John’s phone.

Maybe John had picked up on his panic or maybe he just never forgot again but the man had never left without telling Sherlock again.

Seconds ticked into hours.

When the third had come Sherlock slowed his tapping foot and put on his coat again. John had been gone too long.

It didn’t take him long to reach the restaurant. His friend’s seat was notably empty. His table had been taken by an old man with a hat accompanied by his son.

Sherlock looked around and his heart began to beat faster. His eyes scanned the taxis nearby, the tire tracks in the dirt right next to the sidewalk, the people walking past. John wasn’t there. He looked towards the other side of the street and his eyes landed on a bar. Maybe he went there…

A car horn beeped at him as he made his way across the traffic, trying to stop his hands from shaking again.

The bell above the door jingled as Sherlock pushed it open and made his way inside. A rush of warm air engulfed him. He hadn’t notice how cold it had been. He scanned the room. Rowdy laughter filled his ears. Nothing, nothing, there!

John was sitting at the end of the bar with his back to the door, staring down into a drink. Sherlock made a beeline for him, darting between waitresses and tables to reach his friend.

It wasn’t until he was standing behind him that Sherlock realized he had no idea what to say. Luckily, he didn’t have to make the first move. John turned and his eyebrows rose as he caught sight of him. “Sherlock,” he said, a mix of surprise and stern. “What are you doing here?”

“You were sitting alone at a bar, John. As your friend I was concerned.”

“How did you find me?”

Sherlock hesitated.  _ I followed you because even being away from you for a few hours makes me anxious _ seemed a bit too… concerning. He picked a lie instead. “I tracked your phone.”

“You what? No wait, of course you did,” John muttered resignedly.

“Well, how was your date? How was June?” Sherlock asked, trying to break down the tension that had settled between them.

John narrowed his eyes. “Her name is Jane and it went terribly, for your information.”

“You seem upset. What happened?”

“ _ You _ bloody happened!”

Sherlock blinked a few times. It wouldn’t have been the first time but he’d never talked to Jane and he was sure neither of them had seen him walk by… “I’m sorry, how exactly was it my fault?”

“Well she’d heard about my blog and I guess she decided to look it up.”

“Lots of people read your blog, John, but why does that matter?”

“Because she hated you!” John exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “She thought you were a fraud and that anyone could have solved your cases! She straight up told me you were ordinary like some sort of mad woman!”

Sherlock felt like he was being constricted. It was hard to breath. “Not everyone finds my work credible.”

“And I know that! That’s the whole reason Moriarty was able to turn everyone against you!” Sherlock pressed his lips together and pushed the memories of that away. John, it seemed, had not finished talking. “So we move on with our conversation but I couldn’t stop being frustrated with her and I couldn’t get your voice out of my head telling me what an idiot she was.”

Sherlock’s lips quirked into a smile but he forced himself to frown. “I still don’t understand how I ruined your date, though. Just because she doesn’t like me doesn’t mean you can’t like her. Lots of people don’t like me.”

“You put me on edge, Sherlock! You were bored when I left and I was worried that you’d do something stupid. I couldn’t even focus on what she was saying!”

“That still doesn’t make it my fault!

“Of course it does you prat!” John exclaimed, getting off his stool and pushing a finger against Sherlock’s chest. “I couldn’t bloody stop thinking about you!”

Sherlock could only stare at him, a bit shocked. “I…” he didn’t know what to say. As though John had just realized what words had come out of his mouth he coughed and moved towards the door.

“Come on. I want to go home.”

Sherlock could only stare after him for a moment. Then he remembered how to move and he hastened to catch up to his roommate. What did all of that mean? Sherlock found himself feeling happy about the failed date but a large part of him was still confused by John’s words.

When Sherlock finished locking the door back in their apartment John was just standing there, looking at him. “You were worried about me?” Sherlock asked hesitantly, trying not to hope he was right and not wanting to be right. He didn’t want the man to worry about him. He worried enough as it was.

“Of course I was you idiot!”

He didn’t meet his eyes. “Well I was worried for you, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. I’d have no one to solve cases with if something happened to you and you know how much I appreciate your input.”

John moved forward and, suddenly and a little awkwardly, put his arms around him. Sherlock had never been one for physical contact but he loved this like he loved adrenaline, which was to say, a lot. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Sherlock.”

“Things already have happened to you.”

“None of those things were your fault, and all the danger is gone now, you don’t need to worry.”

Sherlock’s heart hurt. He pulled away from him. “Of course they were my fault!” he insisted, turning to face the couch so his friend couldn’t see the tears forming in them. There it was again… his guilt. It always got the better of him. “You were put into that fire because of me, you mourned because of me, Mary died because of me and you were used as my sister’s lab rat  _ because of me _ ! You were the only person I ever loved and I couldn’t protect you from any of it! Of course I’m worried!”

He came to a sudden halt as the weight of his words settled. The silence around them was deafening and he could feel his guilt pulling him under. He was drowning.

“ _ I’m the only person you’ve ever loved _ ?” echoed John, voice quietly shocked.

Sherlock knew his face was burning. What could he say? “Look, John, I only meant-”

A hand on his arm spun him around and the next second John’s hands were around his neck, pulling him down until their lips were pressed forcefully together.

Sherlock almost pulled back from surprise but caught himself at the last minute, instead wrapping his arms around John and pulling him closer.

When they came up for air neither of them spoke for a long moment. Then John gave him a steely look. “None of those things were your fault,” he repeated. Sherlock nodded numbly. “How long?”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed as his brain struggled to form coherent thoughts aside from  _ John-John-John-John-John _ .

“How long what?”

John rolled his eyes. “How long have you liked me, Sherlock?”

He didn’t have to think about it. “Since the day we met.” He didn’t want to ask but he did anyway. “And you?”

The man looked at Sherlock’s chest instead of his eyes. “Since the day I realized that you were always going to be there for me… even if you had no bloody idea how to do that.”

Sherlock smiled. He leaned in and they kissed again, short and sweet, and Sherlock melted into it.

“I love you,” John said softly against his lips. “So you don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“Jealous? When was I ever jealous?” Sherlock interjected indignantly.

John laughed. “Please, Sherlock, I’m not stupid.”

“I know John,” Sherlock replied, resting his head against John’s shoulder. “I know.”


End file.
